Shakespeare the Sonnets

Like as the waves make towards the pebble shore

Thou blind fool love

O, never say that I was false of heart

How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Against that time - if ever that time come

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Love is too young to know what conscience is

When I do count the clock that tells the time

Who will believe my verse in time to come

Those lines that I before have writ do lie